


Repeat Until Death

by plasticdaisy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meteorstuck, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 23:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasticdaisy/pseuds/plasticdaisy
Summary: Even when things are really hard, when shit hits the fan, when the trauma is too much to handle - Karkat never locks Dave out of his room.Until he does.





	Repeat Until Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittyMotor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyMotor/gifts).

“C’mon –”

I tap my foot restlessly as I sit at my desk, eyes glued to my laptop. Karkat hasn’t messaged me at all today, which is … strange. In fact, he’s been incredibly sparse for the past week. He’s only online briefly, and it’s usually to cancel weekly or bi-weekly engagements the two of us have – movie nights, dinners, all that shit. He gives curt excuses every time and won’t elaborate even if I ask him to; in fact, he’d started to just say ‘it’s a troll thing to explain later’.

And, if it hadn’t been a week of this bullshit, that might have shut me up better.

The thing is that we both have a history of _isolating_. Even as our relationship has flourished, for every three weeks we spend right next to each other there are days we spend apart out of some morbid combination of stubbornness and guilt.

Karkat said to me once that ‘it’s something we should really work on’, but despite our lengthy conversations on the meaning of death and our respective traumas, talking through our relationship and our concerns for one another is not exactly one of our strengths. It leads to a massive number of misunderstandings – more than either of us are willing to admit. We spend an unimaginable amount of time thinking we hate each other for two lovers that are hardly found apart.

But I digress. I’ve been messaging him on and off all day long, trying everything from cracking dumb jokes to sending him audio files of new mixes. I chew on my lip before biting one of my nails, cringing at the sour taste of nail-polish chips sticking to my tongue.

It’s been two hours since I last messaged him, and to put it lightly, it’s been hellish. I haven’t really moved from my laptop, hoping to god he’ll come rolling into my inbox – even if it’s just to tell me to fuck off. Even when we isolate, it’s unlike him to stop messaging me for a whole day, or at least to not come crash in my room if he doesn’t want to talk about it.

There’s just been … _silence_; my worst enemy. It claws underneath my skin, crawling through my veins with a sharp ache that won’t cease. There’s been no messages, no visits, no awkward run-ins while we both get snacks. I haven’t seen him at all, and according to Rose and Kanaya, no one else has, either. It’s eating me alive, and I take a deep breath, briefly sinking my teeth into one of my scarred knuckles to coax the aches from my hands for a second.

“Alright, again,” I murmur under my breath, waking up my computer and opening my chat with Karkat. A few more messages won’t hurt.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] – –

TG: dude are you okay

TG: its been like all day

TG: seriously

carcinoGeneticist [CG] did not receive messages from turntechGodhead [TG]

TG: what the hell

TG: did you block me

TG: alright im coming to your room

carcinoGeneticist [CG] did not receive messages from turntechGodhead [TG]

TG: fuck

carcinoGeneticist [CG] did not receive messages from turntechGodhead [TG]

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

“Fuck,” I stand up so quickly my head spins, shoving my chair out of the way. I can’t take this anymore – even if he kicks me out, I just have to know he’s alive. I can’t sit in the quiet for the rest of the day. I take a deep breath, fixing my shades, and make a beeline for Karkat’s room. The hallway seems to lengthen and swallow me whole as the panic in my chest swells. I can’t even think of how I’d feel if something happened to him – which eats away at me a little, considering I tend to be the one of us who makes slightly more reckless and stupid decisions.

If this is how he feels when I do something dumb, I have a fuck-ton of apologizing to do. I shake away the thought. That’s different. There’s no way I matter that much.

_‘It’s not,’ Karkat would tell me, ‘of course you fucking matter.’_

But he’s not here.

I don’t hesitate as I move to open Karkat’s door, because I’m not expecting it to be locked. It’s never locked. He doesn’t lock it – certainly not when there’s a chance I’d want to come in.

Something in my chest seizes up as the doorknob catches.

“No,” I murmur, turning it again. There’s something wrong. This _has_ to be a mistake. Maybe the door got stuck. Karkat wouldn’t lock me out.

_‘You can always come in,’ he told me once, ‘even when I don’t want anyone else in, my door is open for you, because I always want you here. Okay?’_

“Karkat?” I call, shaking the handle, “I think your door is stuck, man. Can you come get it?”

I’m returned with silence.

“I’m not – fuck, dude, I’m not playing with you here. I need to come in. Get the door, please?”

Nothing. I knock on the door a few times with my other hand – hard.

“Karkat. C’mon. Please.”

The quiet is ringing in my ears. I bang on the door again, before spinning on my heel and threading my fingers in my hair. There’s a flood of fear rushing through my system, filling up my lungs and clawing at my throat. I feel tears welling in my eyes, but I force them back down by swallowing – Striders don’t cry.

I shake the handle again.

“Karkat, open the fucking door,” I force out, my words increasing in volume and intensity as I grow more desperate, driven by the silence driving spikes into my skull, “Now. I can’t fucking do this. Don’t leave me here. Open the fucking door!”

I’m not one to raise my voice with anyone, so it almost sounds like someone else is speaking as I begin to scream at him, beating the door until my hand aches. My ability to think melts into mantras of ‘Karkat, please’ and ‘open the fucking door’.

There’s something terribly wrong. He could hate my guts. He could be violently ill. Fuck, He could be _dead_.

I stop yelling at the thought, weakly throwing my fist against the door one more time. My fingers hurt like hell.

I press my head up against it – and though it’s too thick for me to hear him moving around, I pray to gods I don’t believe in that he feels me from the other side.

“Karkat, please,” my voice is hoarse when I speak again, near silent, “please.”

I don’t even know if he can hear me anymore. Fuck, what was the last thing I said to him? Did I tell him I love him enough? What if he’s really gone?

I take a step back, wracking my brain for any kind of solution – ways I can knock down the door – but my head is spinning.

Suddenly, I hear a faint _click_. My gaze immediately freezes on the door as the handle shifts and it opens. I brace myself, my hands balled so tightly fists it stings.

It’s Karkat. He’s alive. He looks tired as fuck – his hair mussed, his eyes half-lidded and bloodshot. He probably hasn’t been eating, and he sure as hell hasn’t been sleeping. But, god, he’s _alive_.

I throw myself at him in an instant, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him into the tightest hug I’ve ever given anyone. I can feel him shaking against me, and he returns the embrace after a pause of surprise, burying his face in my chest. I hold him like he’ll slip away; like if I let go of him, he’ll disappear from my arms. I shove my head into his shoulder, fighting off tears as I tell myself he’s okay, we’re okay, _he’s here_.

When we pull apart, I keep my hands on his arms with a grip tender enough to be loving but firm enough to say _don’t go_.

He searches my face as we look at each other, brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice as hoarse as mine.

I pull him into another hug, balling my hands in his sweater and closing my eyes.

“Don’t ever lock your door again,” I mumble, “ever. Please.”

His reply is a nod against me, like I stole the words out of his throat. He squeezes me tighter, and I never want him to let go.

We stand there for what feels like an eternity and not long enough, before I pull away to run a hand through his hair and examine him a little more closely. As my panic fades, I’m immediately inclined to fuss over him – I need to make sure he’s on the mend, I need to keep him safe.

“Do you want to get something to eat? Make a pile and watch a movie?”

He yawns, his gaze bouncing from my face to the floor, then back again.

“… Yeah,” he says, finally, “that would be nice.”

I take him by the hand. We’re both still shaking. As we slowly make our way to the kitchen, I can feel him looking at me. I can see the guilt in his eyes, and I wish he wouldn’t feel that way; I’m just glad he’s safe. I just want him to be okay. I want him to be with me.

“I love you,” he says.

I squeeze his hand.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> written at the request of & for my boyfriend<3  
sometimes you need a lil angst amirite my dudes
> 
> titled after the song of the same name by novo amor


End file.
